


who are you in the dark? (show me the scary parts)

by lucylikestowrite



Series: in the dark [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ava is Soft, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Post-Episode: s03e12 Curse of the Earth Totem, Sara is angsty, even when Sara is being mean and pushing her away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylikestowrite/pseuds/lucylikestowrite
Summary: Sara wakes up from a nightmare during her first night with Ava, forgets who's in her bed, and ends up with a knife on Ava's throat.





	who are you in the dark? (show me the scary parts)

**Author's Note:**

> a lil bit of angst that i thought up while watching a flamenco show, of all things. this has absolutely nothing to do with flamenco. i can't even remember what inspired it. but hey that's where i thought of it
> 
> not an au. set in the night after 3.12. short and uhhhhhhhh not really sweet mainly just.... sad.
> 
> title from in the dark by camila

She's back in the League. She's always back in the League. That's always what her nightmares are.

She's back in the League, and they want her to kill someone, and she's going to do it, because in these nightmares, her body never obeys her mind when it screams at her muscles to stop.

She's going to kill someone, and they'll have the face of someone she really did kill, because they're all etched onto her brain, forever. Sometimes she thinks she's forgotten one, and then a new face will show up in her dreams, and when she wakes up she’ll remember everything about them.

The perfect memory, the ability to store information flawlessly that Ra’s had drilled into her never fails her.

No matter what she tries, she can't forget.

There's a knife in her hand, and the target is a middle aged man that she killed six months into her time with the League. He was one of her first, and she hasn't dreamt about him in a while.

He was one of the ones who didn't go quietly, one of the ones she had to hunt down, had to fight, until he finally succumbed and died.

Messily.

The second she plunges the knife into his heart for the killing blow, her eyes snap open, her breathing heavy. Her own heart is still racing, and there is a haze over her mind, and she's suddenly aware that there is someone next to her, on the bed.

Everything happens in a split second. Her hand finds the knife that she always keeps in the bedside table, and then she's on top of them, her body working on automatic.

Her legs pin their body down. One of her hands is on their throat, the other hovering above it with the knife.

She's not thinking; she's hardly even seeing. She’s still half-asleep. Her senses aren’t her own.

She's just acting on instinct, the instinct that tells her that there is someone in her bed, and that there shouldn’t be someone there, and she needs to eliminate that threat.

And then they open their eyes, and it’s like her brain kickstarts into motion, because finally it’s processing what her eyes are seeing, finally it’s telling her that this is Ava, that she’s supposed to be there.

That she’s there because Sara had dragged her back to her room, had kissed her, had worked into her until she’d fallen apart with Sara’s name on her lips.

Because Sara had told her to stay, despite the whisper in the back of her brain that had told her not to.

The whisper that had known something like this might happen.

Ava opens her eyes, and they’re wide. A million emotions pass behind them in half a second, flickering past too quickly for Sara to register.

She swallows, and Sara feels it under her palm. Ava looks like she’s about to say something, but the movement of her throat presses her skin up against the knife that is still there, and she seems to change her mind, closing her mouth.

At least until Sara finally unfreezes, finally pulls the knife away.

“Sara…” Ava says, trailing off, her voice quiet. Her eyes have stopped changing, and have settled on _understanding_ and it’s too much.

Sara is scrambling back before Ava can stop her, before she can sit up and reach out. She’s off the bed a split second later, dropping the knife like it’s burnt her. The sound of it against the metal floor rings loud in her head.

She grabs an oversized cardigan from a pile on the floor, pulling it around her shoulders, wrapping into herself, and then she’s gone, ignoring the sound of Ava calling out after her, telling her to wait.

Now that the haze is gone, Sara can remember all of last night, can remember that Ava fell asleep almost entirely naked. She knows Ava will follow her, but she also knows she’ll stop to get at least partially dressed first. That gives her a head start. She doesn’t want to see Ava, doesn’t want to see anyone, and if she can get away before Ava is dressed, maybe she won’t have to.

She should’ve never given in, never kissed her. Should’ve taken their disastrous date as a sign that this was never going to work out.

She finds herself in the medbay, curled up small in the corner, behind one of the stations. There’s a loose thread on the cardigan, and she pulls at it, to have something to do with her hands, her hands that are restless, completely restless, fingers never stopping twisting.

“Agent Sharpe is looking for you, Captain. Do you want me to tell her where you are?” Gideon’s voice is almost sympathetic.

“No. No. Don’t tell her where I am. That’s an order.” Sara pauses. The string unravels, and Sara feels like she’s unravelling, too. “Tell her to go.”

“I don’t think I should be evicting your... sexual partners, for you, Captain.”

“Tell her to go.” Sara’s voice is hard. She stares straight ahead. “Tell her to go,” she repeats, like it’s all she can say.

There is silence from Gideon, silence that goes on for five minutes, for ten minutes. Sara can only hope that means she’s obeying. She leans against the wall, knees tight up against her chest, breathing slowly.

In and out.

In and out.

She doesn’t close her eyes. If she closes her eyes, she sees the very first emotion that registered on Ava’s face when she had woken up to Sara’s knife on her throat: fear.

Fear, because she had been scared of Sara, scared of what she could do. Sara doesn’t want to ever see that again, but it's inevitable if she keeps Ava around, so Ava has to go.

At least it’s ending before it properly got started. It makes it hurt slightly less.

She tugs once more at the string, and the sleeve of the cardigan completely falls apart, that one tiny loose end compromising the integrity of the entire fabric.

Sara briefly contemplates going back to her room, but she can’t go back until she knows Ava is gone. Maybe, she won’t even go then. She doesn’t want to sleep in that bed. She eyes the chair. Maybe she could get Gideon to send her to sleep, get her to give her something that will make her sleep dreamless.

Nightmareless.

She speaks again, her voice both loud in the silence and unbearably quiet, unbearably defeated. “Is she gone?”

“No,” comes Gideon’s voice. “Agent Sharpe is still aboard the Waverider. I have not told her to leave. I’m not here to have relationship discussions with your lovers, Captain. I’m here to navigate, provide information and maintain the ship.”

The word ‘lover’ stings. That’s not what they are. That’s not what they ever will be, ever _should_ be. Sara can see that now.

“Tell her to—”

The door slides open. Ava has found her.

It’s not a great hiding place once Ava is in the room. “I can see your feet, Sara.” Sara draws them in, childish. Two strides across the room later, and Ava is in front of her. She collapses down in front of Sara, hastily dressed back in the only clothes she had with her—her work blouse and trousers. The image of Ava Sharpe, Time Agent, sitting on the floor, buttons only half done up, is almost laughable.

Would be almost laughable if Sara wasn’t spiralling inside her head, if laughter didn’t feel impossible.

“Tell me to what, Sara?” Ava’s voice is soft.

Sara ignores the question. “I told her not to tell you where I was. I gave her an order. She’s not supposed to be able to ignore orders.”

“She didn’t tell me where you were," Ava says, matter of fact.

Sara raises an eyebrow.

“She listed literally everywhere you _weren’t_. It was a long list," Ava says, in explanation.

“I didn’t disobey you, Captain. I didn’t tell her where you were.” Gideon sounds smug, self-satisfied. Sara's going to have to get Zari to code in something that means she can't do that.

“No, but you also didn’t tell her to—” Sara clamps her mouth shut. Ava is looking at her.  Sara sighs. “You didn’t tell her to leave,” she finishes, almost guilty.

“You didn’t order me to. You just asked. I am allowed to ignore requests if I believe it is in your best interest.”

Ava is still looking at her. “You wanted me to leave?” Her voice is hurt, wavering slightly, and Sara hates it.

Sara looks away, refusing to meet Ava's gaze. “I _still_ want you to leave.”

“Last night… you told me to stay. You told me you wanted to wake up next to me.” Ava’s voice is quiet. Sad. Disappointed. It almost makes Sara want to give in, but she can't.

“It's not last night anymore.” Sara's voice is hard. “Things have changed. I'm dangerous. I woke up and forgot who you were and why you were there. I can't let that happen again. I almost killed you.”

“No, you didn't," Ava says, leaning in closer, her voice urgent.

“Yeah, because you woke up in time. If you hadn't—” If Ava hadn't woken up, Sara doesn't like to think about what might have happened. Maybe she would've snapped out of it. But maybe she'd needed the whites of Ava's eyes, shining in the low light, to get her out of it.

Maybe without Ava waking up, she would've actually gone through with it.

“No. You wouldn't have hurt me." Ava looks up, away, pausing, trying to find the words. "Look. The— the knife. You weren't holding it the right way. You were hardly even holding me down. You weren't really trying. Your body wasn't trying, not properly.”

“I had my hand on your throat. I know ten different ways to kill people like that.”

It's maybe more like twenty. She can see every single way in her head, in excruciating detail.

Ava reaches out. Sara shies away. “Stop moving, Sara. Stop pulling away.” Her palm finds Sara’s throat, resting lightly there. Sara's eyes close, on automatic. “You were half asleep. Maybe it felt like you were pressing down, but you weren't. It was more like this. You couldn't have hurt me.” Ava's hand is more grounding than anything, and it feels good, but it doesn't matter.

Sara forces herself to twist her head, and Ava’s hand falls away. “I still want you to leave. This doesn't change anything.”

“Why, Sara? Why do you want me to leave?”

Sara pauses, considers. Why not be honest, now, when things have already come crashing down, hours after they’d begun? “I'd rather tell you to go now than wait until later when I've hurt you enough to make you want to.” The words come out in a rush.

Ava blinks.

There is silence.

More silence.

“Sara…”

“Just. Don't.” Sara moves to get up, but Ava pulls her back down. Sara can't look at her.

"You're not going to hurt me," Ava says, her jaw set.

“Just go, Ava. I don't want you.” Sara blinks as she says this, trying to blink away the treacherous tears that threaten to fall, that threaten to fall as she lies through her teeth to keep Ava safe.

Ava swallows, gritting her teeth. “I know that's a lie. I know you're trying to push me away.”

Sara finally looks at her. “What the hell do you know about me, _Agent_? We've been on _one_ date. We kissed. We slept together once. That’s it. You don’t know me.”

“I know that you're scared,” Ava says, her voice steady, refusing to give in.

Sara hates that and loves that and hates it.

“You don't know anything about me. You're just a government stiff who’s read my file and thinks that means you know everything.”

“I don't think—”

“I'm not normal, and I know you thought you could deal with that, but you _can't._ You're not enough. Not strong enough to deal with me.”

There are the beginnings of tears welling up in Ava’s eyes, but her voice is still firm when she says, “Stop talking like that, Sara. I know you don't mean it.”

“It hurts, doesn't it?” Sara’s voice is bitter. “This is what I do. I hurt people. Make them want to leave.”

“I don't want to leave. I want you to stop talking like this.” Ava sounds so earnest that all Sara wants to do is give in. It would be so _easy_. So easy to stop saying words that she doesn't want to be saying, to stop pushing away a woman who she wants, above all else, to pull in. Ava's hand finds Sara's. "Please, Sara."

Sara's mouth is a hard line. “Make me.” Maybe it's easier to give in if she's not the one conceding, easier if she makes Ava do it.

And so Ava does, closing the space between them, kissing the lips that have done nothing but try to hurt her for the past minute.

Kissing Sara until Sara forgets what she was going to say next. Until Sara can't breathe, can’t think, can’t try to push her away. Until Sara, instead, finds Ava’s shirt, pulling her in closer, the fabric bunched up under her fists.

Ava pulls away, and Sara is gasping, speechless. “Stop trying to hurt me, Sara. I'm not going to leave. Not while I know you don't mean a single thing you're saying. Stop hiding. You can't push away everyone because you're scared of how it might end.”

“I can try,” Sara says, petulant.

“I'm not going to let you,” Ava says. “I don't want normal. I want you. Come back to bed.”

It’s not a request. It’s an order.

“I—” Sara stops, not sure what she even wants to say anymore.

“Did you lie last night when you said you wanted to wake up next to me?”

Sara hadn't lied. She'd just been drunk on a feeling, and had been able to ignore the fear, ignore the fear that she’d ruin it at some point.

“I didn't lie,” she admits.

Ava holds out her hand, and Sara takes it, letting herself be pulled up. Ava's face is close. "Sorry," she whispers, her lips half an inch from Ava's. "For everything."

Sara's lips hover there, so close and yet so far, until Ava pulls her back in. Her mouth is soft. It's not their like first kiss, not like the kisses in Sara's bed, hard and needy. It's gentle. When Ava pulls away, Sara isn't gasping. Instead, her breathing has slowed, and there's the beginnings of an easy smile on her face.

“Then come back to bed, Sara."


End file.
